Mountainfeet

By Dan Black 
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It was another gorgeous fall Sunday. We'd had so many of them recently. The colors were out, the air was fresh, and Jeff and I decided to take advantage. It wasn't a hard decision.

Into the 5-speed, the roomy one I'd bought because we needed space to ride together. Out onto I- 81, then to a three-digit US route, and finally, an unmarked backroad. Trees, hills, an occasional house. I felt myself unwinding. It had been a rough week. I kept the stickshift in a light grip with a right hand, and held Jeff's hand—the one with 7 fingers—with the other. We massaged the tips of our 14 fingers, back and forth, gently. Sometimes Jeff liked to pull rank by using his middle left hand, the one with 8 fingers. He could lock onto my scant 7 from both sides, squeezing tight. But today was too gentle a day for that. Besides, if he tried that, I could pull rank elsewhere.

We were driving without a destination in mind. I had a sense we were climbing, slowly but surely- -my front ears always pop at altitude. The breeze on my outer left arm was cool as I let it hang out the window. It took just a light touch with my inner left arm to keep the steering wheel in line. I rested it there in my front lap, in the V formed by two of my left dicks. It felt good there.

Jeff and I were a team. He hadn't met anyone but standard-issue folk before me. Though he was never made to feel the outsider, he had always wanted someone who could understand his desires. I knew that, and I was determined to show him that I could do the job. On our first date, I collapsed myself into just another ho-hum guy with the usual number of hands and feet. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the effort it took me. He seemed bored, as well he might. But when we got home, his six hands found their way beneath the covers…..to discover six thrilled and throbbing thirteen-inch penises waiting for them. I had planned it that way, and spent a week designing and growing them just right for him. As I let more and more arms and legs emerge and surround him, he knew, and I knew. We hadn't spent a night apart since.

Jeff and I chatted about the day, and our week, and our life together. As we talked, I munched on an apple. I know, you shouldn't eat and talk at the same time—it's a bad habit I picked up as a kid. But really, Jeff was too sensitive about it, I thought. After all, I can speak perfectly clearly with my right mouth while I eat with the left.

Still, he was annoyed. I teased him a little—I unrolled the longer of the tongues in my right mouth, wound it around the back of his neck, and slurped him on his right front ear. He had to smile. Well, at least his left mouth did. It was a start. He had a nice, sort of crooked smile on that side. I smiled back, happily, with both mouths, and blew him a kiss with the left. That made his right mouth come around. It was a good day.

Yes, it was clear now that we were climbing a mountain range of some kind. Dips, valleys, but always generally upward. I wondered where we were, how high we would climb.

I relaxed my neck back against my ankles. Limber as I am, I had my front thighs pressed close against my body, my front legs crossed behind my neck, front feet occasionally touching the roof as I wiggled the 14 toes behind my head. Occasionally I would lengthen one of the legs behind my neck just for fun. I'd bring the foot around and up to my mouth and give it a lick, or suck a toe or two. Other times, I would hold them both gently, caressing the soles, using one hand or another.

I still had to use a left foot for the clutch and a right for the accelerator and brake. That was a bit of a bother….one of the few things I dislike about driving. Of course, all my feet were bare, but I didn't want to be using any of them for anything as mundane as driving. I hadn't had time to form an extra pair for the drive, or even better, a couple of lower hands to grip the pedals. Sometimes I do attach a spare arm I keep around for special situations—it can work either righty or lefty, since it has two opposed thumbs, and it'll attach anywhere I need it—but I'd left it home today. The car can get crowded with all our limbs. Or I might have used one or two of my penises to drive—they all can coil tightly enough to hold the wheel. But, no, not today, I thought. I was enjoying things just as they were.

Jeff always found this driving position a little bizarre. He thought it looked uncomfortable. But I could see it wasn't too bad for him: under his sweatpants, there were at least three significant bulges halfway down a few of his thighs, and…was that…yeah, I could see two shiny purple penis heads poking out from under the waistband. When he saw me looking, one of them made its way to light and lengthened slowly, curling its way over toward my right mouth. I gave it a playful lick, then slurped it like a lollipop. It grew into my mouth, swelling and subsiding, over and over. It was amazing the control Jeff had over each of his dicks, no matter how long he grew them. He could make each of them move with micrometer precision without tensing a muscle anywhere else, or showing any effort on his face. I licked his rhythmically pulsating dick down each side of the shaft, one tongue for each side, sometimes in the same direction, sometimes opposite. Then I wrapped both tongues around it like a coiled spiral and tightened, using the two tongues to build tension against each other and against Jeff's straining cock. This made Jeff groan in a way only I had ever heard. What a privilege to know this man.

As I licked and sucked, I told Jeff with my free mouth how much this was turning me on. This made another of his penises appear, slowly enlarging and thickening. But now Jeff had a surprise for me. Wryly double-smiling, he took the shaft with one hand, covering a good twelve inches of it. But as the penis grew it poked through from between his thumb and index finger. He grabbed it with another hand and repeated this. Over and over. Until all six of his hands, all 42 of his beautiful, soft fingers, were lined up along the shaft, alternating left and right. But he wasn't done. He kept growing this dick for me, the biggest one I'd ever see him do. I watched in fascination, trying to keep my eyes on the road. I felt him wrap this immensely thick and flexible dick around the back of my neck—turnabout is fair play—and slide it along the left side of my face, into my left mouth. Jeff especially liked the feel of the three tongues on that side sliding over one of his dicks (or more, if I had anything to say about it). Now I had two major mouthfuls to work on. I wouldn't be talking for a while. Maybe that was the idea.

Happy as I was, I noticed that the terrain was really starting to change. And it was kind of strange, unusual. The trees slowly gave way to something….it looked kind of like a field of pinkish flowers, scattered in the grass. I realized I had no idea where we were. But we were high. Even my rear ears were popping. And I was breathing a bit through my left mouth, when I could get some space around Jeff's dick.

I wondered about the scenery, which really was getting wild. We passed a sign: Mount Polypod, 8000 feet. I'd never heard the name, though it sounded interesting. I didn't think there were any moutains that high near our home. But I was paying attention only sporadically. Mouths still full, I spent some time enjoying the view of Jeff's three beautiful, bare left feet, layered each one over the next on the floor of the car. The ones on top would occasionally slide gracefully over the ones below, and it was as if I could feel the friction myself. Jeff had his bare, masculine right feet up on the open car window. Each foot rested on top of the knee of the leg in front of it, the front foot touching the front of the window frame. A strong, masculine hand rested on each foot, and the number of toes matched the number of fingers for each pair: 6, 8, 7. This was his favorite riding-in-the-car position. Stupendous sight, and I never got tired of it. I felt at least one right dick—no, two….elongating down my right rear leg, bumping the cloth at the knee of my red sweatpants and straining forward against it.

What the hell, I thought. We were both in a playful mood that day. I grew both dicks down my leg, past the elastic at the ankle. When both engorged, purple heads were showing—resting on the top of my accelerator foot—I told Jeff I had a surprise for him, and pointed down. Ah, Jeff loves surprises. He came simultaneously in both of my mouths, a monumental eruption that nearly choked me. I had to pull the car over to the side of the road for a while so we could both recover.

Sitting by the road, we embraced, arm over arm over arm over arm…..and we kissed in our favorite way. Each of our two mouths found its companion, and we kissed on both sides, deeply, passionately, lovingly. Jeff inserted his right-mouth tongue into my left mouth, and I returned the favor, inserting both of my right- mouth tongues into his left mouth. We went back and forth, switching directions of insertion, sometimes letting all 7 tongues meet in the middle to play together, sometimes self- pleasuring one mouth to the other while the other nuzzled and licked elsewhere. Since I had more tongues than Jeff, I could sometimes force my tongues down his throat—way down—in a firm, dominating way. He enjoyed that, especially if I pinned six of his arms with six of mine while I was doing it. Pulling rank on him. Jeff enjoyed letting himself be dominated a little, and I enjoyed obliging him.

But now we took a good look around. I don't think either of us will forget what we saw. Mount Polypod, the sign had said. 8000 feet. And there they all were.

Growing from the ground. Small feet and large feet. White feet, dark feet, feet with 5 toes, feet with 8 or 9 toes, some feet with fingers. Feet with soft soles, feet with firm ones, masculine feet and graceful feet, feet attached to long hairy legs, feet close to the ground. But all of them beautiful. Many of them wriggling their digits. Some of them rubbing up against each other, some touching gently sole-to-sole. And, nearest to us, a group that was clearly moving in unison. Wavelike motion…..and we realized, they were beckoning us to join them.

Jeff was the first to regain his composure and jump in. His six feet lost themselves among the hundreds that caressed him, played with him, turned him over and over, pinned back his arms in a pinwheel and rubbed each of his penises in turn until he screamed in ecstasy. I nearly didn't make it in, I was so dumbstruck by this sight. But I wasn't going to miss this.

I galloped over and jumped—and landed with my face in a set of four matched pairs of feet, soft, sweet smelling, each with 7 hairy toes. I buried my head in this cluster of polypodium and felt myself being rubbed, massaged, prodded and explored on every square inch of my body. I felt one of my left dicks being pulled downward. Then another, and another, and then all three right ones. I felt the mountainfeet looping and tugging and stretching all six of my dicks, out in different directions. As time went on I realized my dicks must have reached an incredible length. Then I knew what was going on. The mountainfeet were using my dicks—and Jeff's—as a temporary root structure.

I could feel feet rubbing against my dicks for what seemed like an incredible distance. They must have made me grow 500 yards of dick, at least. Each dick had sprouted multiple heads, which were also being pulled and tugged among the swaying, twisting feet. I grabbed randomly at the feet that surrounded me, euphoric, becoming one with the great footstructure around me, losing my identity into it. My own feet, all of them, became detached and joined in the swaying chorus of mountainfeet. I found my face buried in my own feet, and I licked them, multiple tongues between toes. I was no longer me. I could hear Jeff's cries and I knew he was experiencing the same transcendence.

Hours went by. I was certain that my dicks now touched every one of the mountainfeet. I could feel Jeff's dickstructure crisscrossing mine in hundreds of places, and where it did, both of us throbbed that much harder. I had exhausted myself and lay quietly, letting the mountainfeet work their way with me. I was outside my body and yet I could feel every part of it.

A subtle change then. It seemed as if my own dickstructure had stopped growing and was now intensifying in arousal. The mountainfeet moved more quickly, and there was more purpose to their movements….more reciprocal motion, less random swaying. I felt friction increasing. Jeff's dickstructure pulsed harder against mine. I could feel him experiencing the same re-heightening arousal, though I could not say exactly where he was any more. Another hour, two hours….I can't say how long the intensity kept increasing. I was now all dick embedded in a sea of feet, and there was no world outside of that——I was beyond arousal, beyond orgasm, into a state I don't have a name for.

The friction from all the mountainfeet reached a crescendo. They were moving so fast, I could hear a high-pitched sound: thousands of feet rubbing against each other, skin against skin. And I felt my heart stop—and I came, and came, and CAME…..all over the field of mountainfeet, watering each one with my cum, spreading the sperm that nourished them all over that mountain field. Fountains, splashes, leaping geysers of cum spouted from all over the field of mountainfeet. Jeff's sperm splashed on my dickstructure, making me convulse with pleasure as I came even harder, if that's possible…..I was one with him, as I was one with the field. My mind left my body then. You can choose to call it an orgasm, but I choose to think it was something else.

We slept. It must have been overnight; when I woke, I was corporeal again, sitting in the field of feet, with a morning sun shining in the east. The field seemed considerably larger, more robust and vibrant than it had the day before. There was Jeff, his six arms back along his sleek torso where they belonged. I checked myself…..although I could have remade anything I was missing, I seemed to be have all the equipment I'd brought with me. More, actually—two more legs and feet were attached to my hips. Incredibly handsome ones, not mine, but ones I would be proud to wear and show and offer to Jeff. Ones I never could have made for myself. A gift from the mountainfeet?

We left then, quietly, not talking much. I was warmed by Jeff's presence but I was well beyond any thought of play today. Jeff must have felt something similar. He was quiet, pensive, slowly stroking his feet with his hands, one after another as he thought. As we descended our mood lightened, and we tried to find words for the experience. They did not come easily, and we decided we didn't need them. Moving on, feeling elevated, raised, exalted, we laughed, and let our many hands touch and hold each other's, as many ways as we could find.

Jeff was the one who put the exclamation point on the experience. He smiled, a bright, gleaming, mischievous grin, all the more attractive for its doubleness.

“So…..when are we going to Mount Everest?”


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